


Talk To Me

by cellard00rs



Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-14 22:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8030629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: Lance helps Shiro to sleep and an unexpected bond forms.





	1. Chapter 1

Lance can’t sleep.

It’s a rare occurrence. Normally he’s so active during the day that sleep’s easy. Slather his face with night cream, put on his earphones, settle in and boom – instant dreamland. But tonight it eludes him and he doesn’t know what the heck to do about it. Back at the garrison he’d have his stuff to distract him – he could find something to do. But out in the vast reaches of space, floating around in a castle ship? Yeah, not so much.

Eventually he decides to settles for just walking around. After all, the castle is _massive_. It’s not like he knows it like the back of his hand. It’s not like he’s explored every nook and cranny. Normally he’s too busy off being the blue paladin, forming Voltron, and being generally bad ass to take up the role of explorer. So why not?

Lance can hear his footsteps echo in the wide, long hallways as he lazily treads to…god knows where. The main parts of the ship he knows are probably, in fact, the kind of places the others would go if they were in this situation. He can easily see a restless Hunk gravitating towards the kitchen. Pidge is a little trickier to nail down – most likely they’d go wherever there’s some technology they could play with.

Keith, no doubt, would go to the training simulator and fight the gladiator (even if it did try to kill him once), but Lance is not Keith. And if he was, he’d get a haircut. And be like, a million times cooler. This leaves Lance to wonder what Shiro would do. Huh. He’s not sure. Funny, that –usually he has a pretty good imagination, but right now the image eludes him. What would Shiro do…

Lance finds himself in a spot he doesn’t recognize. It’s like other observation decks he’s been to before but it’s a bit more…cozy. He supposes that’s the best way to put it, because he sees some comfy looking lounge sofas near a large, impenetrable shield of glass. And on the other side of the glass? The unknown universe. A black, pitiless galaxy dotted with an endless sea of stars and he finds himself gravitating towards it.

He puts a hand on the glass and feels how cold it is, a faint thrumming beneath. He leans his forehead against it and finds it oddly soothing, that weak vibration humming through his skull, the lifeblood of the ship. Eventually he draws back and he can see the shimmer of his reflection. Does he look different? So much has happened – has it changed him? He tries on a cocky grin and, as always, it looks right at home on his face. He’s a good looking fella!

But slowly it drops away and his reflection becomes more pensive. He’s not the sullen type, but his mirrored reflection carries it just as well. How long has it been since they left Earth? Are they ever going home? When they do go home, will he look entirely different? Will he _be_ entirely different? Maybe he’ll be unrecognizable. Maybe the earlier, grinning handsome guy will be completely lost and he’ll just be…who he sees now.

A sad, solemn face. He licks his lips and turns away, not wanting to look anymore. Instead he sits on one of the lounges and his eyes widened because sweet quiznak! This lounge is beyond plush. It cups his ass and back perfectly and he can’t help but let out a pleased sigh as he threads his fingers behind his head and just…leans back. The cushy material envelopes him and he continues to stargaze, hoping he’ll start to feel at least a little bit tired when he hears a soft, “Lance?”

He startles, not expecting to hear anyone, hands immediately balling into fists as he leaps to his feet, ready to do battle. But it’s only Shiro and he immediately relaxes, hands unclenching and wow, okay, they didn’t used to do that. It used to be he would’ve just jumped to his feet, maybe let out a (no doubt) very manly cry, but fists? Where did those come from? Oh yeah, all the battles. Looks like he _has_ changed.

While this disquiets him, he mostly relaxes, looking Shiro up and down. Unlike Lance, Shiro is not in his pajamas. No, instead he’s in his uniform and isn’t _that_ a surprise? He hardly ever sees the guy out of it. Not that they have many fashion options. After all, Lance pretty much wears the same shirt, jeans, and hoodie every day. He actually has the hoodie on now, having tossed it over his pajamas because of the slight chill in the air.

He’s grateful for it as he buries his hands in its pockets and tries to look casual, “Hey, Shiro. What’s up?”

“What are you doing here?”

Lance shrugs, “Couldn’t sleep. You?”

“I’m on patrol.”

“Patrol? Patrol for what?” Lance snorts and Shiro’s face…

He winces, looking embarrassed, and Lance immediately feels like an asshole. He loudly clears his throat and retakes his seat, “Well, I feel better knowing you’re guarding the hallways.”

Shiro’s lips twitch, not quite a smile, but a sight better than what he wore before. Lance finds himself feasting on his lower lip as an awkward silence falls between them. Lance doesn’t think the two of them have ever really been alone together. Well, there was that time he’d been injured in the explosion, but he was unconscious for the majority of that. It’s never been like this, the two of them together, just…hanging out.

Is that what they’re doing? Is he hanging out with Takashi Shirogane? Lance used to dream about this. Shiro was his hero when he was in high school. He used to imagine what it would be like to meet him, to talk to him, maybe even fly with him. Back then it had all been pure fantasy. And now here he is, living it. In a way. Because while the flying is true, and the talking is true they’ve never really… _talked_.

Hence the awkward silence.

Shiro shifts from foot to foot and for a while Lance thinks he’s going to leave. And ‘thinks’ isn’t quite the right word. It’s more like…worries. Lance wants to say something, to do something; he wants to connect immediately, but doesn’t know where to start. Normally this sort of thing comes easy to him. He’s good at making friends, at being social – but for the life of him, he has no idea how to approach this.

Every time he thinks of a good opening line he feels his lips part, words right on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t say them. He makes a few abortive sounds, as if he’s going to speak, but nothing comes. _Come on, come on – say something, anything_! Lance’s thoughts hiss and, from the outside, this is hilarious. Normally Lance can’t keep his mouth shut and yet here he is – stumped with what exactly to say.

Maybe that’s why, when he finally does open his mouth, one of the stupidest things he can possibly say comes out, “Do you think they celebrate Christmas?”

Shiro blinks rapidly, looking dumbfound. Underline on the ‘dumb’ part because it’s a _dumb_ question and Lance feels stupider by the second as he just rambles on, “I mean the Alteans, the Galra – do you think they celebrate Christmas? Or maybe they do Hanukkah? Kwanzaa? What about Halloween? I bet they don’t do Thanksgiving, I mean, why would they? Although maybe they have their own versions of that…of them, of…y’know, holidays… Saint Swithun's Day…”

Lance begins to trail off as Shiro just…looks at him.

And just when Lance starts thinking about how he’s the biggest idiot in the universe the most amazing thing happens.

Shiro laughs.

It’s not like Lance hasn’t heard him laugh before, but this…

It’s like Shiro’s whole being lights up. It almost hurts to look at him – he’s so bright, so…beautiful. Lance feels himself flush at the thought, flush as he focuses on Shiro’s laugh – at how rich it is, how warm. It makes Lance feel like a king and he finds himself eager to make Shiro laugh like this more, to laugh like this all the time.

Shiro wipes at his eyes and catches his breath, “I… _ahah_ …I don’t know. Maybe? What even _is_ Saint Swithun's Day?”

“It’s July fifteenth. It’s a day where people watch the weather, because tradition says that whatever the weather is like on that day, it will continue to be like that for the next forty days.”

Shiro looks pleasantly surprised and Lance crosses his arms, feeling strangely defensive, “I didn’t make it up.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“Yeah, but I’ll just bet you’re thinking it. Or you’re thinking what everyone else thinks - that I’m just a pretty face. I’m not. I’m well read, I’m well educated – I got into the galaxy garrison program and made fighter class, so-!”

“Lance, Lance,” Shiro holds up his hands in surrender and walks closer to him. For some reason the closer proximity makes the breath in Lance’s throat bottle up. Even more so when Shiro smiles, “I know you’re intelligent. I’ve seen you in battle, I’ve seen you fly – you’re incredibly talented. Both physically and mentally. I’m sure the Blue Lion would expect no less. It’s why you’re his paladin.”

The flush grows with gusto as Lance ducks his head, “Gee, thanks Space Dad.”

The levity evaporates at that and Lance feels like a tool again as Shiro winces once more. He apologizes, “Hey, um, sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just…when you say stuff like that it feels…I don’t know, paternal.”

“Yeah,” Shiro huffs and, much to Lance’s shock, he sits down heavily next to him, the lounge jostling a little under his weight, “You’re, uh, not the first to say that. To make that sort of remark.”

Lance contemplates him thoughtfully before saying with certainty, “You don’t like it.”

“No,” Shiro denies, but the way he says it…it’s clear he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. He shakes his head and tries again, “No, it’s not that. I don’t mind you all looking to me for…”

He can’t even seem to finish the words, not meeting Lance’s eyes, face downcast, “But I’m…I’m not _that_ much older than some of you. It’s a gap of…what? Five, six years, max? I just…I don’t…”

Lance notices Shiro’s prosthetic hand clenching and unclenching. His eyes cast up to Shiro’s profile. It’s so serious. Serious and…lost. Lance can’t even imagine what the black paladin is thinking. Much less what he’s gone through. They’ve been so busy with battles and everything else that none of them have ever really stopped. It’s been all go, go, go.

But here in this quiet moment, Lance can think. He can think and look at Shiro and realize that this man, he’s been through so much. What was he like before being taken? Yes, he’s older than the rest of them, but he’s still young. It’s not like any of them could be his _actual_ children. He’s not over the hill or something. But any youth, any innocence – if he had had them before, it’s all probably been stripped away.

Where does that leave him? Who was he? Who is he? And Lance finds himself fascinated by the idea of it, questions rolling around in his mind like a bag of loose marbles. Shiro lets out a hefty sigh and lies back against the lounge, head resting against the back as he whispers, “It’s beautiful out there.”

Lance turns and looks at the stars and just nods. Shiro continues, “I don’t know any of these constellations. These worlds. The milky way…I have that all mapped out in my mind. But this? It’s all new, different. I should dedicate myself to learning it, studying it.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Lance has no idea why he asks this question. Out of all the ones he has , this is what he asks? But it just pops out of him. Shiro turns and looks at him and his eyes…Christ; the guy has such _sad_ eyes. Lance feels his throat tighten at the sight, pinpricks at his tear ducts and that doesn’t make _any_ sense. Why the hell is he getting so emotional? Maybe he’s more exhausted than he thinks…

But the sadness, the melancholy, tugs at him. More so when Shiro speaks, “You know…I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that question.”

One of Lance’s eyebrows rise and Shiro elaborates, “Asked me what I want to do.”

“Well…what _do_ you want to do?”

Shiro looks away from him, eyes back on the stars. For a long time, Lance doesn’t think he’s going to answer. And then, “Sleep.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’d…like to sleep,” Shiro admits, licking his lips and there’s the faintest tremor to his body, “I’d like to get a good night’s sleep.”

“I hear ya, buddy,” the words leave Lance and he wants to hit himself repeatedly in the face. What kind of response is that? Can’t he be the least bit empathetic? Can’t he say something more...in depth? Something profound? Something helpful? But he’s surprised again as Shiro lets out another laugh. It’s not bitter, but it doesn’t have the same life as the first and Lance glowers at himself.

 _No_. He can do better. He can _be_ better and he resolves to do so as he turns back to the earlier topic of discussion, “So, Christmas – yay or nay?”

A shrug, “I don’t know. Probably not. I’m sure they have their own version. Was it even close to Christmas when we left Earth?”

“Nah, it was a ways off. But I like Christmas. And New Year’s. My birthday, but that’s obvious.”

“Valentine’s day?” Shiro asks and Lance scoffs, “Of course. The ladies _love_ me.”

“Mm, I’ll bet,” is the sly response he gets and Lance puffs up, “You just don’t know, Shiro! I usually have packs of ladies hanging all over my every word, my every deed!”

“Like you do with Allura? Or how about how things worked out with Nyma?”

Lance is this close to getting really worked up when he realizes Shiro is…teasing him. Being friendly. And the sadness from earlier has dropped away. He looks sunnier and Lance wants to hoot in triumph. Instead he plays it cool, firing back with, “Those are _alien_ ladies. Trust me, on Earth; I’m a straight up Casanova.”

Shiro just hums and Lance sits up straighter, “Seriously – I remember one Valentine’s day, there was this girl, Ana, and she was _super_ into me. Like, she was always sending me these flirty texts and asking me to go for pizza and I knew I had to make my move, right? So, with the holiday coming up, I figured I’d go all out and you’d think I’d do the normal routine – flowers, chocolates, cute stuffed toyed animals but oh no, I am _way_ classier than that.”

Lance grins at the memory, “I talk to her friends. I get the inside scoop. I find out what she really likes and wants and I make it happen, because I know catering it to her will make her feel special and making her feel special is the key, man. Because she _deserves_ to feel special and if _she_ feels special, _I_ feel special and if _I_ feel special than I just know that she and I are gonna-!”

A snore cuts his words off. Lance’s eyes widen and he turns to see that Shiro is…asleep. Fast asleep. Sound asleep. _Snoring_ asleep. His mouth is open just a fraction to let out the sound and, because he’s _Shiro_ , the sound isn’t obnoxious like it would be on anyone else. It’s…appealing. Appealing and sweet and Lance sits back, stunned.

Shiro is sleeping. Well, it’s what he wanted, right? Lance studies him. He looks so different in sleep. He looks…unburdened. Lance feels the corners of his lips tug into different directions, as if trying to decide what sort of reaction to settle on. He’s pretty sure it ends up being a goofy smile, because seeing this makes him feel sort of…proud.

As carefully and quietly as possible he gets to his feet, eyes still on Shiro. The black paladin is sitting up right, head listing to one side. That can’t be comfortable. Lance rubs at his chin in thought – should he risk rearranging him? He doesn’t want to wake him. Still, he can’t leave him like this, right? He’ll wake up with a crick in his neck and Lance knows how those can suck. Nodding to himself he decides to risk it and he reaches out, hands gentle.

He takes a soft, but firm grip of Shiro’s shoulders and starts easing him to a more prone position when Shiro moans something, eyebrows knitting together. He looks distressed and Lance edges closer, just so he can hear, “No…nun- _no_ …d-don’t…”

Lance swallows thickly and freezes. What should he do? Should he wake him? Should he stop? Eventually he decides to do what he was already doing – to do what he’s best at. Talk. He keeps his tone comforting as he murmurs, “Hey, hey…shhh. Shh, it’s alright, Shiro. You’re safe. I’m here. I’m here.”

Lance honestly has no idea what exactly he’s saying, but Shiro’s face relaxes and the moans stop. Once more he’s peaceful and once Lance has him completely laid out, he beams, happy with a job well done. He unthinkingly smooths a hand over Shiro’s hair and then draws it back, frowning at himself. Now who’s being Space Dad?

He stands upright, hands in his pockets again as he regards Shiro. Is it okay to leave him here? Should he stay? He doesn’t want to just…just float around a sleeping Shiro like some kind of creeper. Besides, he’s finally starting to feel sort of sleepy himself, his bed calling to him. But what if Shiro gets distressed again? What if he doesn’t sleep well?

Lance twists from side to side, thinking hard. What to do? He withdraws his hands, snapping his fingers before he strips off his hoodie. This is what people do, isn’t it? When they leave someone sleeping? He’s seen it enough in movies and television, read it in books. He removes his hoodie and covers Shiro with it. It looks sort of pathetic on him – like the world’s tiniest blanket, but Lance is sure it’s better than nothing.

He tucks Shiro in and gives him a tender grin, “Sweet dreams, buddy.”

Lance walks away, feeling confident he’s doing the right thing. Tomorrow he’ll get his hoodie back and everything will return to its status quo. Or so he thinks.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next day Lance finds his hoodie folded up neatly outside his bedroom door. He grins as he picks it up, happy to have it back. He tugs it on, but pauses when he catches a soft scent. He draws an arm close and takes a big whiff – it’s a woody smell, very masculine and he realizes it’s probably Shiro. The thought makes the tips of his ears burn. He does his best to forget about it, instead burying himself in his normal daily activities, which are as follows:

  1. Shower, eat, moisturize - the usual basic necessities.
  2. Physically spar with the gladiator.
  3. Verbally spar with Keith.
  4. Hit on Allura – try not get shot down.
  5. Hang with Hunk to get over being shot down by Allura.
  6. Verbally spar with Keith AGAIN.
  7. Check in on Pidge – see if they’ve made any cool gadgets.
  8. Take a quick jaunt around space in Blue.
  9. Hit on Allura; second time’s the charm, amiright?
  10. Be generally awesome.



At the beginning, each is met with its usual outcomes. Lance does alright against the gladiator, Keith proves to be as annoying (yet as entertainingly) fun to poke at as always and Allura continues to show no interest despite his sweet, sweet pick-up lines. Hanging with Hunk is a little different than usual, seeing as Coran tags along. The mustachioed Altean shows a keen interest in getting to know them better, asking several questions about Earth and Earth customs.

This, appropriately enough, brings Lance’s mind back to the other night and his random questions about holidays. It also makes him wonder what Shiro is up to. To be honest, he doesn’t see the black paladin all that often. Unless they’re fighting some Galara threat or training or forming Voltron or whatever, Shiro’s oddly absent. What does he do with his time? What is his daily routine like?

Once the thoughts come to mind, Lance has a hard time shaking them, even when he’s with Pidge, who is insightful enough to notice.

“What’s with you, man? You’ve yet to ask if I’ve made a Pizza-bot or a Water Balloon Canon or something,” Pidge’s tone is light, but their eyes are concerned. Lance immediately decides to deflect, “I was getting to it – don’t rush me! Asking you about your latest creation is an art, not a science.”

“Okay, but you usually don’t ask – you suggest. You suggest the stupidest inventions for me to build and I shoot them all down and we laugh about it, but today…” Pidge looks him up and down, “I don’t know. You seem…sort of distracted…”

“I’ll show _you_ distracted!” Lance counters and takes Pidge in a headlock, knuckles digging into their scalp. Pidge squawks and struggles and Lance laughs, feeling good at doing exactly what he said he’d do. Distract Pidge. Distract Pidge from asking why Lance is distracted, because the last thing Lance wants to talk about is how he can’t seem to stop thinking about Shiro. How would that sound?

Stupid, that’s how. Straight up ridiculous. He shouldn’t be thinking about Shiro so much. Not that he hasn’t done it before. Truthfully, he used to be pretty fixated on the guy. Back when he was in high school and Shiro was a rising star in the galaxy garrison program, Lance had been unable to shut up about him. He’d driven his family and friend’s nuts with facts he’d read, articles he’d perused – all tidbits about the infamous Takashi Shirogane.

They’d teased him about being obsessed but back then; Shiro’s face had been _everywhere_. Well, everywhere if you knew where to look. Magazines, news interviews – he was a legend! Lance couldn’t help but be in awe of him. He was like a celebrity, but a million leagues better because he wasn’t just some actor or sports star – he was a _pilot_. A _space_ pilot.

All Lance had ever wanted to do was fly – since he was a little kid, it’d been his dream and Shiro fit so well within that dream. He’d been the quintessential representation of everything Lance hoped to be – brilliant, confident, strong, handsome and yeah, okay; just….he just tries to forget about that last part, alright?

Because Lance is already _crazy_ handsome and look, so - he’s totally comfortable enough in his own sexuality to admit that he can recognize handsomeness in another dude, but the way he’s thought about it in regards to Shiro is…it’s just…

And ever since last night, it’s all come up again. That…feeling he used to get in his chest. Back when he didn’t even know Shiro, back when he’d just been a fan. That feeling that he absolutely refuses to call an attraction or a crush or something dumb like that. Because he knows Shiro now. They’re friends (they _are_ friends, right?) and they’re fellow paladins and that’s all they are. That’s all they’ll ever be and Lance is totally cool with that. Completely cool with it. One hundred percent cool. Cool as a cucumber, cool as ice, cool as-!

“Lance!”

Lance blinks and realizes he’s still holding Pidge, his knuckles having long since stopped their noogying. He lets them go and scratches at the back of his head, “Oh! Yeah. Um, sorry.”

“See?” Pidge picks up an alien looking tool and waves it in his face, “What I tell you? Distracted. What is it? C’mon, you can tell me.”

“That’s rich – coming from the person who kept a boatload of secrets from us,” the words leap out of Lance before he can stop them and he winces once they’re out, recognizing how ugly they sound. Even more so when Pidge looks so hurt and he holds up his hands in surrender, “Whoa, hey! Um, look, I’m-! I shouldn’t’ve-!”

“No,” Pidge cuts in quietly, “You’re not wrong. I should have been more upfront with you all. Especially you and Hunk. You both were really good to me when I first joined the garrison. Super friendly and…I should have told you, but I just…I didn’t know who I could trust. And I’d lost people before, so-!”

“You don’t have to explain, Pidge,” Lance cuts in and he reaches out to pat their shoulder, “Honest. I’m the jerk here. Not you.”

“Funny, ‘cause I’m the one who _feels_ like the jerk,” Pidge confides with a self-deprecating grin, “Even more so when you won’t let me help you out.”

“There’s nothing to help me with,” Lance assures them but Pidge looks unconvinced, so he bends a little, “Look, there isn’t anything wrong, alright? I’m just…I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“You?” Pidge asks teasingly, “You’ve got a lot on your mind?”

“Yeah, yeah I know. How can a tiny mind like mine have a lot on it – hardy har har.”

Pidge rolls their eyes; “I didn’t _say_ that.”

“No, you were just thinking it very, VERY loudly.”

“Can you see inside my head hole?” Pidge laughs and Lance grins, “Of course! That’s what Coran wanted, right? For us to see inside each other’s head holes?”

They both laugh at the memory and Pidge sighs, nudging one of his arms playfully, “I get it, Lance. More than anybody. You’re thinking about something big, but you’re not ready to talk about it yet. But when you _are_ ready, just know I’ll be here for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lance mutters, feeling uncomfortable with how touchy-feely this is getting. He moves on, hoping to get his day back on to its normal track. But while he does take his regular trip around the stars with Blue, he decides to skip over his second run at Allura. Instead he eats dinner and showers and gets ready for bed, book in hand.

Turns out the castle has a pretty extensive library. Nothing earth oriented, but the same ideas remain. Books on science, books on space – fictional books filled with fantastical tales and this is what he reads now. Working together, Coran and Pidge managed to modify a visor into a translation device. Just slip the visor on, adjust a few knows and bam! Readable text. Lance is scanning through a few pages when he hears a knock at his door.

Frowning, he takes the visor off and puts the book to one side, wondering who it could be. When he opens the door he realizes he should have known. Shiro stands there, an apprehensive air about him. It’s strange to see _Shiro_ anxious – the head of Voltron always seems to have it together. Lance can list on one hand how many times Shiro has come across as unsure and even adding this to it, it’s a small sum.

Regardless, Shiro eyes skirt from side to side as he clears his throat, “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” Lance returns inelegantly, because he doesn’t know what the hell else to say. God, why is it always awkward when it’s just the two of them?  Lance doesn’t like feeling awkward – in fact, he almost never feels this way. Usually he’s impervious to nerves, so to feel it now seems unfair. But for some reason, he just…feels off kilter when he’s alone with the black paladin.

Thankfully Shiro seems to suffer from the same aliment. Although Lance has no idea why. Shiro was perfectly collected the other night. Well, for the most part. He did seem a bit disconcerted when he confessed his desire for sleep. Like wishing for a good night’s rest is sinful. Maybe that’s it? Maybe Shiro feels bad that he fell asleep while Lance was talking?

This thought immediately makes empathy override any other emotion and Lance crosses his arms, leaning in the doorway as he relaxes considerably, “You sleep well?”

The question is innocently asked, but when Shiro’s color actually deepens Lance knows his earlier thoughts are correct. For some reason this makes him feel better, more in control, as he continues, “Thanks for bring my hoodie back. Can’t have my signature look without it.”

One of Shiro’s eyebrows rises, “Signature look?”

“Yeah, you know – the laidback, casual look that I pull off with such ease. The hoodie caps it all off. It’s comfy design screams out to girls that my arms are the ones they want to rest in.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, but there’s affection there and the tension between them finally seems to melt. Lance beams, happy to see Shiro more at ease, “So, what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to go on patrol with me,” Shiro offers and Lance stands up straight, surprised, “Really?”

Shiro nods, “Yeah, I think it’s important. Even though we’re in deep space, you can never be too cautious. The castle has been infiltrated before and it could very easily happen again.”

“Point, but also…” Lance eyes his bed longingly, “…there _is_ the date I made with my pillow.”

Shiro blinks and then looks solemn, “Ah, I see. You’re tired. I understand. Okay, well…good night, then.”

He turns to leave and Lance feels his heart do a backflip. He immediately slams his bedroom door loudly behind himself as he thrusts himself into the hallway, decision made in a flash, “Hey! But y’know, evil never rests! So my pillow can take a raincheck! C’mon, let’s go!”

Lance starts striding ahead, pace determined even though he has no idea where he’s going. To be honest, he _is_ tired, but for some reason he just…he can’t let Shiro leave like this. Not looking all wistful and abandoned. Besides, this is the hero he used to dream of spending time with. He can’t just throw an opportunity like this away. Shiro snags him by the back of his collar, halting him, “You sure you want to go in your pajamas?”

Lance looks down to see that he is, in fact, once more clad in his sleepwear. He eyes Shiro thoughtfully, “Well, I suppose I could change into my uniform…”

“No, you don’t have to do that,” Shiro assures him but Lance is leery, “You’re saying if we come across bad guys I should fight them in my jim jams?”

Shiro snorts, amused, “No. Not exactly.”

“’Cause I could,” Lance promises him, “I’d just give ‘em a little of this-!” he kicks out wildly, over the top martial arts-like movements, followed by, “-and then close with some of-!” he then does some random uppercuts and Shiro grins, “Those are, ah, some good moves.”

Lance is pretty sure Shiro is just humoring him, but he’s pleased regardless, “Oh, I’ve got moves you haven’t even _seen_.”

The boast is meant to be just that, but when Shiro’s eyes widen marginally Lance realizes how it might have come across as flirtatious. Lance ignores how his cheeks burn as he mutters, “I-I, ah, what I meant is, I’m – you know, a-a good fighter.”

“Of course,” Shiro confirms, clearly embracing the explanation, “But you might be better off if you at least went with your signature look.”

Lance blinks rapidly, lost at first until his mind winds its way back through their conversation. He snaps his fingers and points them like guns at Shiro, “You got it, Shiro! Back in a tick!”

Lance ducks back into his room and once his door is shut behind him, he collapses against it, groaning. God, could he be any more of a spaz? He’ll never impress the black paladin this way. God, Keith would have done a better job and thinking of this spurs Lance on. He’ll show Keith! He’ll show everybody! He can be totally cool, calm, and collected around Shiro and earn his respect and admiration! That’s what he wants…right?

Well, that and his friendship. Lance quickly changes into his shirt, jeans, and hoodie. He emerges to see Shiro waiting for him there, “Alright! Let’s do this!”

 

+

 

The two paladins walk for what feels like hours. Or maybe it just feels like hours for Lance because he’s tired; eyelids droopy. He’s sure he could be distracted from his exhaustion if he and Shiro were talking, but that’s just the thing – neither of them has spoken a word since this patrol began. They’ve just walked alongside one another, silent and vigilant. Albeit Shiro being much more vigilant than Lance, whose mind has wandered into imaginative territory.

It starts off with Lance imagining what it would be like if they actually are attacked in the halls. How Lance would be the one with the keen observational skills to ferret out the Galara invaders, how he and Shiro would fight like a well-oiled unit, side by side. How, afterwards, Keith would be massively jealous and Hunk would give high fives and Allura would reward Lance with cheek kisses. And then Shiro would look at Lance, all warm and affirming, telling Lance that he’s a hero. He’d put his hand on Lance’s shoulder and it would be so warm, so perfect and Lance would look deep into his eyes and…

Huh.

That’s…weird.

Lance frowns, unsure why the fantasy is going off in this unusual direction. He tries to switch it up, to picture what Allura’s doing right now. She’s probably sleeping – looking exactly like what she is, a princess, all regal and glorious. An ethereal figure, waiting for prince charming’s kiss to awaken her and hadn’t Shiro been sleeping the same way the other night, looking so handsome in repose and-!

 _Stop, stop, stop_ , Lance’s thoughts hiss and he rubs at his forehead, _what the heck is going on with you, buddy_?

He really doesn’t know and it’s frustrating. It doesn’t help that exhaustion is starting to weigh on him and Shiro must see it, because he stops his fast pace to regard him with some worry, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lance says but his words come out brisker than he’d like. Shiro offers a tentative grin, “Hey, we’ve checked most of this level. How’s about we take a break, huh? I know just the spot.”

Shiro jerks a thumb over one shoulder to indicate the direction they’re going to move in. Lance just shrugs and follows. They’re not even walking for very long when Lance starts to recognize his surroundings. Shiro is taking them right back to the same observation deck they were at the other night. Shiro takes a seat on the lounge and Lance follows suit when he notices some pillows and blankets have been put to one side.

He eyes them thoughtfully, then smirks, “Wait a minute – is this why you asked me on patrol?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Shiro’s tone is completely innocent, but Lance catches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and the smirk grows in force, “Yeah, you do! This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Blanket fort and pillow fight – total first year garrison stuff!”

Shiro blinks rapidly and then laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Yeah, yeah – you caught me. Always did love that initiation stuff.”

“Oh man, me too! Me and Hunk did all kinds of bonding activities when we started! We’d planned on including Pidge, before well, y’know – we discovered all about aliens and giant lion robots and quiznak – you should’ve just told me! I would’ve brought us some snacks! We could’ve even invited the others! This could’ve been a great team Voltron building exercise or whatever!”

“Ah, I, well I thought it…it might be better if it was just you and me,” Shiro says quietly and, yet again, Lance feels a flush of heat coarse through him. Now it’s his turn to swallow heavily as he shrugs, “Okay, well – cool! Cool, cool, cool!”

 _You’re repeating yourself_ , one half of his mind jeers unhelpfully while the second half tells the first to _shut up_! Lance grabs some of the sheets and starts stringing them about. As he does so, he sets himself comfortably in the best possibly place he can. Innane chatter. He talks about the best way to secure the sheets and blankets, how to arrange them and tuck them in so that they’ll make the perfect canopy over the lounge and Shiro helps, even if he looks a little lost about the whole thing.

Which Lance doesn’t get at all. This was Shiro’s idea, right? Blanket fort? Why else would he have sheets and pillows out here? Lance gets the fort up and running and plops down inside, cushioned by the lounge and the pillows, feeling very pleased in his sumptuous surroundings. Shiro joins him and looks as equally pleased and Lance is glad to see this new expression, so much nicer than the earlier bemused one.

They both rest there, quietly gazing out from beneath the canopy of sheets when Shiro asks softly, “Lance?”

“Hmm?”

“What…what ever happened with Ana?”

“Ana?”

“The girl you mentioned last night.”

Lance recalls the Valentine’s Day story and his lips twitch from side to side in disappointment, “It didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lance waves a dismissive hand, “Don’t be. It was no big deal. Sure. We’d been on a couple of dates and yeah, I probably gave her the best Valentine’s Day she’ll ever have ever and she told me I was like, the best guy she’d ever met but, mean, it couldn’t last forever, you know? What with her running off with this older guy and all.”

“Older guy?”

“Some mook in a suit. Bolo tie and everything. I think he was a con artist.”

Shiro laughs, “How do you know that?”

“Don’t know. Just a feeling,” Lance sighs and he leans back into the material behind him, feeling sleepier by the second, “Besides, he drove this big old car that looked like it was on its last leg. I mean, a _car_ , man. How can a _car_ compare to a _spaceship_? Blue is a million times better than any old four wheeler. But you know girls; they get turned on by the strangest things.”

“I guess.”

“Bet you had your fair share of girls back when you were at the garrison.”

“Uh, not really.”

“Oh come on!” Lance sits up and looks at Shiro directly, “You’re telling me Takashi Shirogane didn’t have his pick of the ladies?”

“Women aren’t really my department,” Shiro says softly, eyes avoiding Lance’s and Lance doesn’t understand why. At first. Then it hits him like a ton of bricks. He knows for certain his face has to be tomato colored as he gasps, “ _Oh_!”

Shiro grimaces and Lance feels like a grade A jerk as he quickly garbles out, “I-I didn’t know! I didn’t-!”

“It’s okay. Most people don’t.”

“But that’s _cool_!” Lance practically shouts it and then he lowers his voice, feeling more foolish by the second, “It’s cool if you dig dudes, Shiro!”

“Yeah?” Shiro’s tone is dry and he looks at Lance with such skepticism that Lance feels as if someone’s cleaving his heart in two. He reaches out and takes Shiro’s shoulder, shaking it a little harder than he probably should, but wanting to get his point across, “Shiro, trust me – if that’s what you like, that’s all that matters! I totally support you! It just means that now you can tell me stories of all the guys you had eating out of your hand back at the garrison.”

This gets a gruff snort, “Yeah, well, I don’t really have stories like that either. I haven’t dated much.”

“Well, maybe you can now,” Lance offers gently, “We can, like, find you some real nice alien dude. Someone like Nyma; but not a girl and not a back stabber who’ll just handcuff you to a tree! Someone decent.”

“That’d be nice,” Shiro muses and Lance feels a little better as he draws his hand back. The two settle into a companionable silence until Shiro whispers, “Hey, Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you,” Shiro licks his lips, voice small, “Could you tell me about your first day at the garrison?”

“My first day?” Lance beams, “Yeah! Oh man, you wouldn’t _believe_ that first day! So, I get there, right? And my Mom, she’s a total sobbing wreck!  Not me, by the way, I was totally stoic about the whole thing while she stood there and just wept and so did my little sisters and my brothers and my father was pretty tripped up too, even though he did his best to come across as strong but really, I was the only one strong enough not to get all teary eyed, but that’s probably because I was so excited about-!”

Lance continues to go on and on, the story long and involved. He yawns a few times during his recounting, but he doesn’t stop until he reaches the very end, which basically recalls his climbing into his designated bunk and passing out immediately. This is fitting, because once he finally stops talking, Lance sees that Shiro is passed out. Completely and utterly.

The black paladin is fast asleep, chest quietly rising and falling and Lance regards him with some surprise. When, exactly, did he fall asleep? And isn’t this almost exactly what happened last time? Lance ponders over this and wonders if he shouldn’t do the same – get up, go to his own room, his own bed.

But as he looks at Shiro, as he settles in better, he realizes there’s absolutely no other place he’d rather be. Just earlier he’d been imaging a sleeping princess and now here he is, next to a sleeping prince. This thought throws him for a moment – where the hell did it come from? God, he must be more exhausted than he thinks…to think of Shiro like this, to think about this handsome, sleeping prince just…waiting for…an awakening kiss…

Lance’s thoughts trail off as slumber claims him.


	3. Chapter 3

Shiro feels guilty.

He wakes up early the next morning, having had the second best sleep he’s had since before the Kerberos mission to find Lance sprawled all over him. Lance is made of loose limbs, legs and arms wildly akimbo, mouth hanging open as he snores, drool trailing from one corner of his mouth. Shiro can’t help but smirk, amused. Guy sure is cute when he’s not running his mouth a mile a minute. Not that he isn’t cute then too, but still…

He carefully moves about, trying his best to squirm out from beneath his Lance-blanket without waking him. Lance gives out little discontented noises, fingers scribbling out to grasp weakly at Shiro, as if trying to keep him in place, but eventually Shiro manages to wriggle away. Once free, Shiro looks down to see that while Lance’s brow is furrowed, his eyes still sealed shut. In fact, he merely grumps and rolls about until he finds a comfortable spot, snores returning in earnest.

Shiro wants to smile more looking at Lance, but knows he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t smile, he shouldn’t be happy. He’s inconveniencing him and, what’s worse, he’s lying to him. Shiro frowns and scratches at the back of his head with his prosthetic. As always, he internally winces at the feel of the cool, robotic fingertips against his scalp.

 _Galara tech_ , his thoughts mutter and he feels shame intertwine with the guilt. He walks away from Lance without a backwards glance, knowing exercising will do him a world of good. A couple push-ups, some ab work, maybe a jog around the training deck. The workout will clear his mind – make him stop feeling so much. Hopefully. Maybe. Please God, maybe just this once…

He picks up his pace, damn near sprinting as he focuses on his heartbeat, his breathing – physical things that are so much easier to control than the tangled web he calls his mind. He focuses on those things and does his very best to forget warm tanned skin, soft blue eyes, and a voice that easily lulls him to sleep.

 

+

 

The day goes on in its normal fashion. Shiro sees Lance at breakfast, but the blue paladin doesn’t say anything about last night nor act any differently than usual. He jokes around with Hunk, argues with Keith and seems his normal, plucky self. Honestly Shiro’s a little surprised. Lance is by no means subtle and he half expected when he saw him again that Lance would proclaim loudly to one and all about how he and Shiro built a blanket fort last night.

If nothing else, he definitely expected him to rub that fact in Keith’s face, their rivalry too epic to let such a fact go. It’s not a lie that Shiro and Keith are close – they’d been friends before the mission and if anyone can understand the darkness in Shiro, it’s Keith. The red paladin has his own scars to bear and Shiro knows if he reaches out to him, Keith will be there. Keith will understand and commiserate. But Shiro finds it’s not Keith he wants to confide in.

Actually, he doesn’t really want to confide in anybody. Memories, moments from his time spent with the Galara…they trickle back into him now and then. And he buries them. He pushes them as far down into himself as he can, because he’d rather they remain forgotten. It’s better that way. Ignorance is bliss. Knowledge, the truth, the reality of what he went through is…painful.

And despite what the others might think, he is _not_ strong. He’s not some father figure with all the answers, all the bravery and wisdom and strength – he is young and weak and fragile. He’s a broken thing masquerading as a human being. His lost arm alone speaks to this. The replacement, the robotic Galaric monstrosity that he has to use…it reminds him every day of his failures, of his brokenness.

So what’s the best way to push past this? What’s the best way to hide? Who is the best person to talk to, the one who won’t poke or pry? Who will truly try to make him feel better? Shiro knows the answer and he hates himself for it, hates how guilty it makes him feel to use someone who’s so light and pure, so innocent.

He’s sure Lance would argue all of this, but it’s true. At his core, at his heart – Lance is a very good person. He’s warm and loyal. He’s sweet and lively and Shiro is finding more and more he likes being around him, likes being comforted. Even if Lance doesn’t really know he’s offering comfort. Even if Lance doesn’t know Shiro is using him as a shield to hide, to protect himself.

 God…he’s such an asshole. The others look up to him and what does he do? Uses one of them to make himself feel better. What a sick joke. He should be a better person, a better leader. He should just take all of this on the chin and man up. Instead he’s this pathetic jerk who keeps crawling back to someone for safety. And the person he’s crawling to doesn’t even know it.

Lance has no idea that he’s helping Shiro. He probably just thinks they’re best buds or something. Having team building exercises or paling around garrison style and Shiro is just the worst. The least he could do is be honest with the guy.

But Shiro’s afraid.

Just another one of his many, many faults. He’s afraid if Lance knows, if Lance sees how damages he is, his perfect, heroic vision of Shiro will be altered. Destroyed. He’ll know him for the wretched creature he actually is. Or, even worse, he’ll pity him. Shiro can’t stand the idea of that – of being pitied. Not by Lance, not by anybody. So, the best thing he can do – the only thing he can do – is stop this. No more seeking Lance out late in the night – he can handle all this on his own. He did it before, didn’t he? The least he can do is try to be the person everyone thinks he is, right?

But as the day wanes on, as they get closer to the time everyone will go to sleep, he finds his resolve slipping. The past two nights have been so nice. So restful. Surely…surely he can have one more. Rest is important. He’ll be a much more effective leader for Team Voltron if he gets a proper amount of sleep, something he truthfully hasn’t had in a very long time.

At least, not until he started this madness with Lance. And it’s not as if Lance minds. And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and it’s not as if Shiro is doing something that bad, is he? He’s not harming Lance or anything…

Shiro is dithering about this in his room, pacing back and forth, one of his flesh and blood fingers rubbing thoughtfully under his bottom lip when he hears a knock on his door. He startles and then shakes his head to himself. _God, Shiro, keep it together! It’s not as if Galara knock,_ his thoughts hiss and he smacks at the automatic door with more force than necessary with his robotic hand. As such, the door bends a little and he curses under his breath. And not only because of that, but because Lance is standing there on the other side and he looks a little unsettled.

He jerks back at the way Shiro dents the door and he blinks rapidly, “Is…this a bad time?”

“No,” Shiro growls out then he sucks in a loud breath and tries again, voice much more jovial the second time, “No, of course not. Sorry. Come in.”

Lance eyes the dent but does as Shiro asks, hands burying themselves in his jeans’ pockets, “So, uh, listen…”

Shiro does.

Lance doesn’t continue.

Shiro feels his lips twitch, one eyebrow rising, “Yes?”

“Huh?” Lance is looking all around Shiro’s room, clearly distracted or shy or maybe both and Shiro’s heart rises, the twitching of his lips becoming a full on smile, “I’m listening.”

“Oh, right, so…um,” Lance looks away, one hand going to the back of his hair to scratch at his scalp and his actions are so much fun to watch. He’s so…squirrely. Shiro doesn’t know why exactly, but it’s extremely fascinating. Lance is fascinating. He’s always so animated, so bright, so the opposite of Shiro himself and Shiro finds himself nearly bouncing on his feet with anticipation of what Lance will say or do next and oh dear, that’s…that’s alarming. Normally when he feels this way it’s because he’s, ah, _interested_ in someone.

And he absolutely, positively, cannot in any way shape or form be interested in Lance. Not like that. _Never_ like that. Shiro clears his throat and tries to be more authoritative, more closed off. He crosses his arms and attempts to look a bit more severe, serious, and while Lance doesn’t see it, eyes still roaming all around, he does respond to it, finally talking, “I just…I wanted you to know…”

“Yes?” Shiro presses again, like he’s waiting for a mission report.

“The Alteans don’t celebrate Christmas.”

Shiro doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. His brow wrinkles at the announcement and Lance looks sheepish, “Remember? That first night – I asked if you think the Alteans celebrate holidays like we do, Christmas in particular, so I asked Coran and he told me they don’t.”

“Ah!” Shiro remembers and laughs, “Yes, of course! I remember now.”

Lance looks pleased, ducking his head, “Yeah, he told me they have something similar. They do the whole gift exchange thing, but it’s not during the winter months. They actually do it in the summer. Or, well, ah, their equivalent of it. Said it was all to appease some big, hot sweaty god or something – kind of like Santa but evil?”

His head rises and he looks thoughtful, “To tell you the truth, I mean – I like Coran and Allura. They’re cool, ESPECIALLY Allura, but the more I hear about Altea the darker it seems. Like, Coran told me instead of rain they had hot falling rocks coming outta the sky – I mean, what the quizznack? _Rocks_? I think I prefer water. And puddles. And Christmas…and pizza and…”

His words drop off and Shiro reaches out his human hand, gently patting one of Lance’s shoulders, “Home sick?”

Lance nods and lets out a sigh, “I hate it. I swear; I feel like the only one. Like, I know Hunk misses his family and it’s not even a question when it comes to Pidge, but…I feel like I’m the only one whoever brings it up. I talk a lot about my family and Earth and missing it, but no one else seems to have much to say about it. And I feel bad for feeling bad and it’s…”

He groans and tugs at his hair, making it stick up in weird directions. Shiro licks his lips and his hand rises from Lance’s shoulders, hovering above his hair as if to smooth it down. His fingers clench and unclench before he lowers the hand, instead running it through his own hair, “Look, Lance, I get it and you shouldn’t feel bad. It makes perfect sense to miss your family and Earth and to miss them often. There’s no shame in it. And I promise you, you’ll go back to them someday. Hopefully someday very soon.”

“Will I?” Lance scoffs, “I’m part of Voltron. One of five paladins – I’m expected to help take down the Galara empire, emphasis on _empire_. You do know the definition of an empire, right? It’s massive. The Galara are a massive force and we…we’re just a small band of freedom fighters in a war and wars…they can be fought for _years_. Decades. Forever maybe and I don’t…”

He chews on his bottom lip and walks over to Shiro’s bed. He eyes it, looking worried, looking as if he’s not allowed to ask, so Shiro offers, “You can take a seat.”

Lance flashes him a grateful look before he collapses on the tiny bunk. Shiro draws out a nearby chair and turns it, sitting in it backwards and Lance grins, looking a little surprised. Shiro gets it. It’s not the kind of position most of the team would expect to see him in. It’s very casual. But he finds it the most comfortable as he folds his arms over the top of the chair’s headrest and leans closer to him, “The Galara is an empire, yes, and we are at war. But that doesn’t mean that we’ll be doing this forever.”

“‘Cause we’ll die?”

“What?” Shiro cries, “No! Why would you-?”

“Hey, I know everybody sees me as the jokey guy,” Lance grumbles, “The super handsome, super confidant, super awesome comic relief or whatever but I…I can have my dark thoughts too, y’know? And it’s not…inconceivable. The idea that we…we won’t all make it.”

“We’ll make it,” Shiro hears himself say the words and almost lets out a bitter laugh, his thoughts growling that he’s a liar and he beats all that back, pushes it down because no. No, he has to be a uplifting. Because no one on the team should feel like this. And out of all of them, _Lance_ shouldn’t feel like this. The very idea sticks in Shiro’s craw and he drums up the best encouraging voice he can muster, “We have something the Galara don’t. Something they’ll never have.”

“Voltron?”

“More than that. We have each other, Lance. We have our friendship, our bond…we have each other and that’ll help us get through this. It’ll help us defeat the Galara, bring down the empire, end the war, and take you, all of you, home.”

Lance blinks and looks at Shiro with those damn blue eyes of his and god, those eyes are like laser pinpoints on him, “You said…’all of you’. D-Don’t you mean…all of ‘us’?”

Shiro gets up from the chair, turning his back to Lance as he says softly over one shoulder, “I meant what I said.”

“But…” Lance’s mouth flaps for a few moments before he manages, “But that means you’re not coming back with us. You’re not going back to Earth? Back to your-?”

“I,” Shiro breaks in, voice hoarse, “don’t have much to offer Earth anymore.”

He raises his robotic hand, turns it this way and that, watches it flash purple and closes his eyes, “And…there’s…not really anything waiting for me there.”

“A-anything or-or anyone?”

“Both.”

A resounding silence settles between them and Shiro feels like a heel. What the hell is he doing? Why is he saying these things? Wasn’t he supposed to be making Lance feel better? He should’ve kept his mouth shut. Or, better yet, he should have just gone along and played the role he’s been trying to perfect. The role of inspiring, self-assured leader. It’s wrong of him to reveal this kind of weakness. It’ll create doubt, fear.

It could damage their resolve as a team if Lance tells the others and no, Lance wouldn’t do that, would he? Shiro should be able to trust him enough to confide this and Jesus, why _did_ he confide it? Why is it so easy to slip up around Lance? To let him in and fuck, he should _not_ let him in. Shiro shouldn’t let anyone in and-!

His thoughts come to a screeching halt when Lance comes up and hugs him from behind. Shiro freezes, eyes wide, completely stunned because there’s a comforting weight at his back and a muffled, “‘M sorry…sorry if this is weird, but….dude, I-I need to do this.”

Lance’s arms are wrapped around his middle, tight but reassuring and Shiro finds his hands floating above them, wanting to touch, but afraid and gently, gently, he lowers them, touches them because he can’t _not_. He touches Lance’s hands with his own and breathes, “Thank you.”

Lance just nods against his back and they stay like that for several heartbeats. When Lance finally draws away he clears his throat and the bunk makes a few noisy squeaks as if he’s bouncing on it. Shiro finally turns and sees that Lance’s cheeks are slightly pink even as he nonchalantly remarks, “Well, we need to get back to terra firma asap to remedy that. Once we wipe the floor with the Galara and beat Zarkon black and blue, we’ll sail home heroes and get you a smokin’ hot guy to celebrate. I’m talking like; Chris Pratt meets Chris Hemsworth meets Chris Evans levels of hot.”

“I…don’t know who any of those people are,” Shiro says truthfully, but his tone must have been humorous, because Lance laughs, even more so when Shiro adds, “I take it my smoking hot guy is named Chris?”

“ _Ha ha_ – m-maybe,” Lance manages to eke out, still chuckling, “But, seriously, I’m just sayin’ – we’ll get you like, the best guy possible. And hey, didja notice I said black and blue? Looks like it’ll be me and you taking down Zarkon, huh?”

“I’m sure it’ll take the whole team,” Shiro returns, but then counters, “Although you and I make a good pair.”

Lance’s laughter dies off and he looks starry eyed, “You think so?”

Shiro rolls his eyes, “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to tell Keith I said that?”

“Well, while it sure would be fun to toss that in mullet boy’s face,” Lance grins, “I, ah…I think I’ll keep that to myself for now.”

“Like how you kept last night to yourself?” Shiro asks and Lance shrugs, hands drifting into his hoodie, “Yeah it just…seemed like something I shouldn’t share. I mean between last night and the one before it, it seems like you and me are spending a lotta evenings together and I just…I mean, I wonder…”

Shiro’s surprised when Lance’s words die off again. It’s not like him to be so apprehensive, “Wonder what?”

“You said you wanted to sleep. And the past two nights it seems like you have and it seems like they were good and I guess I just wondered if I had anything to do with that?” Lance winces like he feels stupid saying it and the way he rushes on confirms it, “I know I tend to brag a lot and I do think pretty damned highly of myself and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, but I also don’t want to come across like a complete jackass. If I’m helping you I…I suppose I just wanted to know if I am. If that’s why you’ve been hanging around me.”

Shiro breathes in deep. He supposes he would have had to tell him eventually. Hell, he’s been agonizing about it all day. This is probably for the best. Like a Band-Aid, just rip it off quick. Shiro drums up the will and finally comes clean, “That first night it was just random…our running into one another but, I’ll…I’ll admit the second night wasn’t. I came looking for you on purpose and it wasn’t just to patrol or to do some garrison bonding. It…it’s because I like it when you talk to me.”

Lance looks completely floored, more so when Shiro adds, “I like falling asleep to the sound of your voice.”

All of Lance’s visible skin takes on a red hue as he mumbles, “Oh. Uh. ‘Kay.”

Shiro feels like he might be a similar color, his whole body hot as he bobs his head, “I…hope that’s okay. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.”

“No,” Lance replies distractedly, “No, my feelings aren’t hurt but, ah, it’s-it’s not ‘cause you find me boring, right? I mean, you fell asleep twice in a row listening, to me rambling on and I don’t want to think it’s because I’m a bore or something.”

“No, no,” Shiro waves his hands and does his very best to be as adamantly firm as possible, “I don’t think you’re boring, Lance. Not at all. It’s just your stories, the way you talk…it’s-it’s soothing. I lose myself in your words and I just relax and everything slips away and it makes it so I can-can sleep. _Really_ sleep and it’s been a long time since I’ve slept so well, slept so comfortably without nightmares or,” he lets out a grunt and shakes his head, “But I know it’s wrong of me. I’m taking your friendship and generosity and using it selfishly and it’s not very kind of me to-!”

“Dude, stop,” Lance interrupts and he adjusts himself on the bed, scooching back and over, moving as close to the wall as possible. His long legs spread out, fingers threading behind his head to make a pillow as he lies back, “I don’t think that. I’d _never_ think it. And it’s, y’know, flattering. Don’t think anyone’s ever described _my_ voice as soothing. Most people are always begging me to shut the hell up, so it’s refreshing to have someone who likes listening to me. Even if they fall asleep during it.”

A smile takes Shiro’s face and he can’t stop it, his relief palpable, “You mean it?”

“Yeah and hey, uh,” Lance looks at him out of the corner of his eyes, “If…if you want and it’ll help and all, I can, ah, spend a couple more nights with you.”

The moment the words leave Lance’s lips Shiro feels as if he’s caught flame or as if his nose will start bleeding or he’ll die on the spot or something because all the blood in his head rushes out, “R-really?”

Lance just nods and then, very casually, he pats the empty space next to him. Shiro cautiously comes over, moving with the tentative gait of someone who’s worried this is a trap or a test they will fail. But Lance doesn’t move. He waits patiently until Shiro lies down next to him. The two lay on the bed, not pressed together but certainly close, and Shiro’s whole body is tense. He doesn’t know how he can possibly relax and that’s pretty funny, considering just this morning Lance was sprawled all over him. He’s not sure what to do or say or think or feel but as always, Lance beats him to it, “Shiro, dude, close your eyes.”

“My…? What?”

“Close your eyes,” Lance repeats, “I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

Shiro snorts and feels absurd and pleased in equally weird measure but Lance just repeats himself, “Eyes closed, mister, or I’m not going to start the story.”

This gets a shaky sigh and Shiro’s eyes drift closed even as he asks, “Just what _is_ the story?”

“Ah, glad you asked! You just lie on back and listen as I tell you the greatest story of all time! This the story of when I knew I wanted to be a pilot! Now, just picture it, if you will. A young, extremely handsome, extremely smart kid named Lance! Lance was only ten and a half years old, but he already knew what he was going to do with his life and he knew not only would he do it well, but he’d do it soooooo much better than anyone else! Certainly better than any future, mullet-sporting, stupid jacket wearing guys he’d ever meet…”

Lance continues on and Shiro lies there, listening to him and smiling now and again, unable to help himself. Slowly the tension spools out of his body, dissipating to nothing and he finds he’s warm, comfortable. Wrapped up in the soft, lulling cadences of Lance’s tone until there’s nothing for him to do but embrace the sweet, dreamlessness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updates! I have a new job and it eats up a lot of my time! Hopefully I'll get a chance to work on this more as I settle into my new position! Also, I'm sure Voltron is set in the future or in a world not even close to ours, so you'll have to excuse the references to famous men, but I stand behind my silly jokes. ;)


End file.
